Page 15 of For Your Arms Only

Callie bit her lip. “I tried, but she says she’s just not hungry. Tea is all she’ll take.”

Another worry. Cressida sighed. “Later I’ll make some scones. Perhaps that will tempt her appetite.”

“Perhaps.” But there was no conviction in the word.

“We have another problem.” Callie’s face grew even graver, and she set down her tray to follow Cressida into her bedchamber across the hall. “The horses aren’t ours.”

“What do you mean?”

“Papa hired them. He didn’t buy them.”

Callie’s lips parted in understanding. “But that means. . . Oh dear.”

“Oh dear,” Cressida echoed grimly. “When Tom takes them back, we’ll save on feed at least, but what are we to do now?”

Callie sank into the chair, her forehead creased in worry. “I don’t know,” she murmured. “There’s nothing left?”

“Not much.” Cressida sat on the end of the bed. The two sisters looked at each other in silent comprehension. “We can’t stay here,” she said at last.

“Where will we go?” Callie gave a sharp, wild laugh as she jumped back to her feet. “This was supposed to be home—better than Portsmouth, Papa said. Secure and comfortable. When is the lease up?”

“A fortnight.”

“I can draw on my funds,” Callie began. Mr. Phillips had left her one thousand pounds, all currently invested in the four percents. It was a small income, but they needed it.

Cressida flipped one hand. “We’d have nothing when it was gone. At least with that income and Granny's annuity we have something.”

Her sister sighed. “Perhaps Major Hayes will locate Papa soon.”

Cressida said nothing. She rolled a bit of her skirt between her fingers and studied it.

“You aren’t still considering refusing him, are you?”

Cressida shrugged.

“Give me one reason why,” exclaimed Callie, hands on hips. “Who else has offered to help us?”

“I don’t know,” she muttered. “He makes me. . . uneasy.”

“He makes me uneasy, too, but we’re not in a position to be particular.”

“I know,” Cressida admitted. It did make her feel better to hear that Callie was uneasy about him, but her sister had clearly got over it enough to accept his help. Cressida wished she could shake off her own wariness. She wished even more that her unease weren't so tied to the way her nerves jangled like a shopkeeper's bell when he looked at her.

"Granny's tonic is gone," said Callie in a subdued voice. "I'll walk into town and get more."

"No, I'll go." Cressida leaped to her feet. Heaven knew she could use the exercise. Perhaps something would come to her on the way, some grand scheme to extricate them from this difficulty. A modest proposal to shore up their finances. Even a small plan would be nice. She put on her bonnet, counted out some of their few remaining coins, and set off for town.

Chapter Six

Alec's next encounter with Miss Turner happened purely by chance.

He was driving from Penford toward Marston when he came upon her walking the same direction, a basket swinging from her arm. Even without glimpsing her face, Alec recognized her. There was no mistaking her brisk stride, or her height, or the slender slope of her neck beneath the plain straw bonnet. She stepped to the side to let the gig pass, and before he could reconsider, Alec brought the horse to a stop.

"Good day, Miss Turner."

She whirled to face him, her golden eyes opening wide in surprise. "Oh! Good day, sir."

Alec smiled. "Do you go into Marston?" She stared at him, then nodded slowly. "May I offer you a ride?"